


The plate

by Riakon



Series: BiHome eng [1]
Category: The Boys (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Light Angst, M/M, Missing Scene, Pre-Canon, Psychology, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 16:50:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20474357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riakon/pseuds/Riakon
Summary: “It may turn out to be a little uncomfortable,” one of the designers admitted, pointing to the special cut of his pants. A stiff plate would not have allowed his dick to rise if Homelander felt arousal in his suit.





	The plate

People do not accept the unusual, the extraordinary and the unlike them - absolutely everyone knows this. Want to fit in? Become one among others? It's simple: you should not be completely different from others.

For so many years spent in Vought’s laboratories, Home has learned to pretend to be human just perfectly. The ideal, the best of all existing, that who, no doubt, will be depicted in the dictionary opposite the expression "real American."

He is a created image from the top of his head to his heels, and he had to do absolutely everything so that others would believe - hey, he’s his own guy, ordinary, just like us, only a little stronger!

From such thoughts, a bitter grin appears on his lips, filled with poison that flows in his place instead of blood - metaphorically, of course. Oh, if they knew how much he didn’t give a damn about everything and everyone, if they could even imagine for a moment how empty and quiet inside him was: only rare reflections of emotions hurt from time to time, breaking the void from the inside, making them tremble, but usually it is only irritation, impatience, jealousy.

If Madelyn is looking for someone to help him, then perhaps the most important thing to make sure is that he is still ahead of everyone else for her. As well as for the whole world - there is no one more important than an impeccable Homelander. The head of the detachment, the ideal citizen, the personification of decency in all its glory.

The image of a person is developed by the marketing department, adding to it those or other traits that, from their point of view, should take root, help to perceive the unlimited divine power not as a hostile component. They probably work better than the team choosing the image of the politician, while the designers also choose how visually pleasing their appearance should be, forgetting that the damn latex suit fits like a second skin, making you feel naked in front of everyone else, but even so Home is superior to everyone.

Sincere indifference to the opinions of others is a great, undoubted advantage in comparison with all other people. Homelander is smart enough not to stick out that he doesn’t give a damn about human conventions like clothes or social dances in front of each other.

“Be like everyone else” - that’s what they invested so much time in him, they didn’t give a damn that years ago people around were pushing that the little boy was hardly like the others.

The nursery "must" and "should" deeply spat on cognitive dissonances - the product must be flawless.

“It may turn out to be a little uncomfortable,” one of the designers admitted, pointing to the special cut of his pants. A stiff plate would not have allowed his dick to rise if Homelander felt arousal in his suit.

The family hero must remain immaculate in a way - Home does. Not a shadow similar to what people describe in their novels: hot blood, constricting desire, butterflies in the stomach, or what kind of bullshit are they writing there? All this work disgusts him, perhaps to the highest degree, making him think that every human individual is so different from him that it is simply difficult to find words even among obscene ones.

No, no, no, all this is not for Home. He is twenty, and he is blameless as Jesus himself - unless, of course, this superhero had the opportunity to remain so until the very end. Who knows, maybe then he would have survived? Or did they know about compound V already in those days, and the Christian idol had superpower “survival”?

“Sir,” a stentorian voice with a pleasant, caressing accent attracts his attention. He first hears these overtones in the Tower. Every day new faces come to Vought Corporation, they arrive, because every night someone gets fired - the staff is mobile, flexible, and no matter how much they all cling to their places, only the best will be hired on an ongoing basis. Those who match his own do not have flaws.

So why did Home notice him talking six floors below, while straightening his suit, he tried to concentrate and check if there were any unpleasant sensations when scanning? How did it happen that it was precisely this voice that attracted him from all the noises, and all of his consciousness instantly took a single short word as an order.

“Like a dog on a leash,” he wants to laugh at this stupid, mediocre reaction, only Homelander doesn’t manage to pretend that it’s funny. It is rather strange, unusual, as if a completely stranger has an invisible power over him. One that makes you wanna do something.

If Home had believed at least one film about love at first sight, then, perhaps, it would have been what he would have called his reaction, but only all this garbage has nothing to do with reality. Death at first sight - that’s what actually happens, but is it?

“Ah, Butcher,” replies the much less pleasant voice of the capital of Jowers, the chief of security for the Vought Tower, and Home lowers his eyes, scanning through the rooms one by one, while his fingers fasten a slutty rag that squeezes unpleasantly the entire skin. “You have arrived. Really, finally ready to replenish our ranks?”

“Thank you, sir,” the perfect vision does not allow one to see the face of the voice holder: he does not raise his head, but Home sees his crown well enough, “but I'm afraid so far not.”

“Lift it, come on, come on,” - the only thought that beats in the head does not allow us to evaluate the existing reality adequately. To realize the desire to look at the owner of this accent, which sounds so good in a deep velvety voice, he is ready to shake his floor well, but why? What is all this if in a mediocre dirty blue rag you can go down and look into the eyes of perhaps the only creature that interested him?

Saying so that goosebumps appear on the back of a powerful Homelander, and under the upper lip he overwhelms with a strange desire to feel touches on the inside of the lip, it’s probably worth it, it remains only to cope with the zip lock.

The tongue gets stuck on its side and it is necessary to pull it very carefully, feeling how the fabric converges into a single cloth stronger, squeezing the skin more densely from all sides. The plate of the suit is pressed into the dick, but painlessly, just unpleasantly, albeit tolerably.

“And for this you came here?” - the clarification sounds impeccably interested, although Home sees: the head of their guard, it seems, does not care. From the moment the refusal was heard in response, his pulse began to decline, he does not care about a man who, apparently, still has something to offer him.

“Come on, come on, motherfucker,” Home mutters, trying not to break the damn clasp and feeling how the two halves of the fabric squeeze like a vice, really enjoying this sensation. As if a strong, imperious hand squeezed it from all sides at once - what could be more pleasant?

The answer follows immediately, and it consists in an interesting emphasis and a deep voice, burying itself under the void in the mind of a superhero:

\- I offer you a worthy replacement for my candidacy. My protégé will cope with such tasks no worse, and I think it will be more useful to you at the headquarters than somehow a nonsense officer with a shitty character - a bored heavyweight baritone fills the whole being, fills Homelander’s void to the brim, mother of them , and it's more fun than any parish. Home covers his eyes, concentrating on him and on the tightness of the suit that has clung to his body. It becomes difficult to breathe, although it is hardly a matter of tight-fitting tissue. Most likely, it is in an acute causticity, which erupts in a voice that surely restrains Butcher himself - he, you know, is accommodating.

“Yes, useful quality, but what about the preparation? We have no place for staff rats here - the goods are not the same,” the fat bastard adds, and Home snorts.

The “Merch”, perhaps, will not soon get used to the fact that someone considers superheroes to be big toys rather than living creatures. He had to learn to prove his right to be similar to people in order to get closer to the ideal of a person who would stand at the head of the whole species and lead them into a brighter future.

And of course, Homelander himself will determine how bright it will be.

“Here,” you have to open your eyes to see a small but strong hand with firm, confident fingers, unjustifiably tightly squeezing a sheet. This is immediately evident, especially to those who learned from a very early age to control all aspects of their strength so as not to inadvertently crush the person they save. - If it doesn’t suit you, then you should moderate your appetites, because you can hardly find anyone who meets the requirements for protecting your superheroes.

The chuckle makes the insides faintly vibrate, and Home checks to see if they are in place, unable to resist. He feels his chest, stomach, groin, noticing how sensitive the skin is now. Even through a layer of tissue, the usual touch of a hand is felt as if it had been removed from the skin and pawed right along the nerves.

During this lesson, he almost misses how the two diverge, and comes to himself only hearing Butcher presses the elevator button.

“I have to see him,” - that’s all that Homelander thinks about, falling off his seat and flying out of the open window. Such a concentration on this simple thought is terrifying, but fighting with oneself is much more useless than collecting galactic debris, so all that remains is to succumb to the temptation.

All that is needed is to go down a dozen floors and, having reached the elevator, press the button just in time to stop it and let it in. Homelander only has a couple of seconds, but this time is more than enough for the most careful examination of Butcher's face .

Wide eyebrows, a hedgehog haircut, light unshaven and a strong tan with a yellowish tint.

“Down to you? ” clarifies that same voice much more distinctly, and Homelander for the first time feels.

This is not like everything described in books and songs - it’s just that the blood accelerates its run as if it had just lifted the Titanic from the bottom, rushing to the penis, causing it to tighten, and the heart muscle stray from the usual leisurely count of strokes.

“If possible,” Home responds politely, and behind it, the elevator shutters slam shut with a pleasant clang.

They are silent for only a second or two, and their own lack of freedom is so tightly intertwined with excitement that Home has serious suspicions - not a voice is to blame for the ongoing bacchanalia, but a costume. Dick pushes right on the plate, and it gives a strange, unpleasant sensation, although the pain, of course, prevails. He absorbs it masochistically, as well as the fact that a simple person, accidentally met by him in the Tower, is the reason for all this.

“Sorry, Mr. Homelander,” the slightly mocking notes make Home stretch his lips in a smile and portray total attention to everything that this voice will say, having swept the focus on the nerve centers, and not the very fact of the conversation. - Is the suit comfortable?

“Yes, a little tight,” he admits, portraying sincerity, and spreads his hands, smiling openly, as befits a superhero. If he were completely honest, he probably would have said that this garbage is only worthy of being burned somewhere on the iceberg of the Arctic Ocean, but this too contradicts his image, and that is more important than the truth. And, perhaps, always will be. - But it looks in accordance with how it is better for mass media. The image of a true American, a true patriot of his country, is worth a little patience.

A sincere recognition should be reinforced by a wink and a beautiful grin trained in front of the mirror so as not to alienate even the male audience, so Home is quite pleased with this. However, hardly more than a brown eye with black eyes with an expression of mockery at the bottom. This man is not afraid of him.

Not at all afraid, not a bit.

Is it possible, being in a confined space with a superhero, to be so fearless?..

“Then the cloak should be made star-striped,” Butcher grins, stepping out of the elevator car, but his joke sounds like a great idea, and Homelander nods in agreement.

“I will pass it on to our designers,” he remarks with a polite smile and also leaves, feeling how the tension in the groin reaches its limit. Damn plate does not withstand and bursts.

It seems that the flag is not the only thing that designers will have to inform about, Homelander understands, shaking Butcher’s strong calloused hand in parting.

His tense dick is now their problem too.

**Author's Note:**

> Are you interested in what will happen next? Do you want to find more of my work? I recommend to follow the link to Twitter and learn more about my work in the pinned message!)  
https://twitter.com/Riakon3  
I also have a community in VK and on the tumblr for porn previews:  
https://vk.com/riakon_porn  
And there is also a discord for chat:  
https://discord.gg/6dQadXQ


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